


Summer Spirit

by omanjuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depression, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Summer, i will be adding tags as i go along because spoilers ahah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omanjuu/pseuds/omanjuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is forced to spend his summer holiday at a beach with his extended family. He spends his first week alone playing video games under the sun, but on the hottest day of summer, he makes an unexpected friend.</p><p>[slight au]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. soda popsicle

He doesn't want to be here.  
  
Kenma's amber eyes are focused solely on his gaming console with due intensity, and his skilled fingers fly across the control panel.  
  
'Three! Two! One! KO!' screams the game as the enemy collapses, and Kenma smiles to himself. He tucks his earbuds deeper into his ears.  
  
The game isn't the only source of sound. Four or five young children are dancing around near him, squawking to their parents and demanding for attention.  
  
He really doesn't want to be here.  
  
A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he delicately rubs at his eyes. It isn't rare for eye bags to form as he often stays up to play video games, yet these are different.  
  
These are the product of sleepless nights on a rock hard futon, of wailing children at witches' hour, of awkward and emotionally scarring conversations with relatives replaying at two in the morning.  
  
If anyone is not enjoying themself, it would be Kenma.  
  
In the summer of his second year in high school, Kenma was whisked away to a dubiously remote beach resort for a family reunion.  
  
The last time he had seen his extended family was probably ten years ago, when he was just as old as his now cousins. He wouldn't have minded leaving it as such, yet here he was, stuck in this sunny hell.  
  
Words flash across the screen, "Do you want to challenge the next level?"  
  
Kenma presses "Yes".  
  
As the game boots up, he notices that three of his aunts have settled near him.  
  
"He's a strange child, isn't he?" says one of them in a hushed tone, as if the conversation is meant for only the ears of the other two.  
  
But Kenma's ears are exceptionally sharp today. He pauses the game to listen in.  
  
Another nods vigorously. "Not at all like his mother, right? I've never imagined our bubbly sister raising such a stand-offish and introverted child."  
  
"Oh, he was already so shy and timid at six," comments the last aunt knowingly. She stirs her coffee, and taps the teaspoon against the chinaware with a 'clink'. "At this rate, I'm afraid he'll become a hikikomori!"  
  
Kenma starts the game again, void of emotion. He doesn't feel upset nor misunderstood; no, he has long cast away those feelings.  
  
"Kenma!" calls his mother. He pauses the game again and looks up. "Do you mind taking the children out to the beach again? We adults are going for a massage, alright?"  
  
'I do mind,' he thinks, eyes flickering to the rambunctious children. 'I don't want to go to the beach. Today's the hottest day of the summer. The radio said so. I want to stay in the restaurant of the hotel.'  
  
But he can't say no to his mother's expectant smile.  
  
"I don't mind."  
  
"Yay! Thanks, Kenma!" she says breezily, pressing a feathery kiss to his cheek. "Get going then!"  
  
With a sigh, he pushes himself up and leads the overjoyed children out of the hotel and onto the beach.  
  
"Make sure you put on sunscreen! It's the hottest day of the summer! Have fun, sweetie!"  
  
If Kenma had been anyone else, he would have scoffed. Have fun? His mother knows how he dreaded the family reunion, and how for the entire first week, he had remained on the same deck chair, playing the same games alone.  
  
Have fun? He watches his cousins screech in joy and splash about in the ocean, before turning back to his console.  
  
All he wants to do is go home.  
  
***  
  
"Oh! Whatcha playing?"  
  
A sudden voice slices through the air, and Kenma jolts. Judging by the proximity and the phrasing, the comment is probably meant for him.  
  
His fingers nimbly rotate about the controls. As his avatar lands the final blow, he turns and looks over.  
  
It's a boy. Not just any run-of-the-mill, cousin-aged boy, however.  
  
He's relatively short, height barely peeking past 165 centimeters. A bundle of orange curls frames his sun-kissed cheeks, and his chestnut brown eyes shine.  
  
Kenma continues sizing him up quietly, and only remembers he is being questioned when the boy repeats it one more time. "Whatcha playing?"  
  
"Oh. Uh, nothing much," says Kenma, quickly turning back to his game.  
  
He peeks up again through the veil of his hair, and is surprised to see the boy still hovering there. Most people would be put off by his curt reply, but the boy seems to lean closer.  
  
"Can I see?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
Kenma scoots over slightly, allowing a better view for the boy.  
  
"Gwoh!" he goes in wonder as Kenma resumes playing. "Amazing. Amazing! How do you do that?"  
  
"It's not an incredible feat. You just have to press and hold this, and then when the timing is right, you release-" Kenma's avatar swung at full force, rendering a groan from the enemy "-and that's it. Simple."  
  
"Amazing! Amazing!" Nevertheless, the boy's eyes sparkle. "You're really amazing...uh...what's your name again?"  
  
"Kozume," Kenma offers. He glances at the boy. "Kozume Kenma."  
  
The boy's face splits into a giant grin. "Ah, your name's Kenma! Sorry, I forget to introduce myself sometimes. I'm Hinata Shoyo, glad to meet you!"  
  
The boy's name rolls on his tongue like sugar, and he tests it out. "Shoyo."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Kenma cracks a polite smile, and returns to his game. Shoyo is cheerful and friendly - nothing like Kenma. He'll probably leave soon.  
  
Shoyo blinks when he loses Kenma's attention, but isn't fazed. "I've never seen this game before. What is it?"  
  
"'Battle Bros.'," Kenma finally tells him, eyes still glued to the screen. "It's brand new, so I'm not surprised that you don't know about it."  
  
Shoyo rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm not really up to date. I play video games sometimes, and I have the exact same console as you! They're both silver and sparkly and cool!"  
  
Kenma is not too sure; after all, his console is limited edition. "Ah. I see. Do you have it with you now?"  
  
As if. Shoyo's in swimming trunks and nothing else. He droops slightly, and confesses, "I left it at home. Otherwise, I would have challenged you to a multi-player game!"  
  
A multi-player game? This time, Kenma has to hide a tiny smile. A real one.  
  
"Do you even know the controls, Shoyo?"  
  
Shoyo is confident, and flashes a thumbs up as he says, "Nope!"  
  
Kenma sighs. It is exhausting to be with Shoyo, but there's something about Shoyo that makes his heart flutter ever so slightly.  
  
"I have a spare console in the hotel. I could bring it tomorrow and we can play a multi-player game together," Kenma suggests, and Shoyo lights up like a Christmas tree. "But first, you need to learn the controls. Bring a deck chair over, and I'll teach you."  
  
"Really?" Kenma nods, and Shoyo's face splits into a mega-watt smile. "You're the best, Kenma! Hey, I think I-" he fishes around in his swimming trunks before pulling out a wrapper glistening with condensation "-have a popsicle! It's the kind you can split into two and share. It's so hot today, so you can have half!"  
  
"Oh. Thanks." Kenma watches as Shoyo rips apart the wrapper and breaks the ice cream into two. He receives it, and gazes at the melting popsicle.  
  
Shoyo runs off to collect a deck chair, and even from a distance, Kenma can see his brilliant grin.  
  
A smile that could heat up the coldest of winters, and thaw the frostiest of hearts.  
  
Kenma takes a bite.  
  
Sweet soda ice cream coats his tongue and seemingly dissolves in an instant. He savours the heavenly frozen treat with bliss, and fixes his gaze on the boy running over with a deck chair - Hinata Shoyo.  
  
A soda popsicle on the hottest day of summer, pearly laughter, video games and a warm smile brighter than ten suns - that is Shoyo.  
  
Kenma swallows the remains of the popsicle, and secretly smiles into the dripping ice.  
  
Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! if you think this is going to be fluff you are mistaken because i cannot write fluff for the life of me :D
> 
> this also serves as a personal challenge as i a) am accustomed to writing in past tense and b) can't write more than a oneshot. if you spot errors, do let me know!!
> 
> lastly, this is inspired by bibi's natsu owaranai de. if you want a hint on what's coming next, listen to it maybe hehe~ thank you for reading and hopefully i will finish this by early november! //throws confetti everywhere
> 
> hopefully.
> 
> c) snails write faster than i do. and move faster too.


	2. wings

"Kenma!"  
  
His name rings clear as day, and Kenma shoots up, blushing.  
  
Shoyo runs over to him, arms raised in an exaggerated wave.  
  
"S-Shoyo," mumbles Kenma in a weak attempt of greeting him.  
  
Shoyo smiles, and loops an arm through Kenma's, earning a surprised choke from the latter. "Did you bring it?" Shoyo chatters away, oblivious to the growing redness on Kenma's face. "You did? Yay, I can't wait! You're really the best! You know, I was so excited yesterday, I couldn't sleep! I kept..."  
  
Kenma's young cousins watch Shoyo prattle on with widened eyes, wondering how Kenma managed to make a friend in such a sunny boy.  
  
Shoyo laughs merrily, and warmth spreads amongst the ones who hear it.  
  
"You can go play now," Kenma tells his cousins, and they scatter reluctantly.  
  
Shoyo watches them go. "Who are they?"  
  
"My cousins," says Kenma. The two walk over to the joint deck chairs and settle down. "They're all six."  
  
The ocean waves undulate, and the children shriek in joy, wading deeper into the inviting waters. Shoyo's face softens. "They look like they're having fun."  
  
A twinge of a strange emotion pinches Kenma. As he unzips his backpack, a sinking realisation burdens him: Shoyo prefers to be with them.  
  
Then Shoyo turns to him with a healing smile which washes away all his doubt, and mentions casually, "Well, we're going to have more fun, aren't we?"  
  
Kenma blinks, and quickly averts his gaze to his backpack. A tiny smile touches the corners of his lips as he stares hopefully at the two consoles in his backpack.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
***  
  
Fingers frantically gyrate across the control panel, in synchronisation with every movement on the respective screens.  
  
Kenma's avatar dodges a round-house kick from Shoyo's, and returns the favour with swift punch.  
  
"Damn it, not again!" groans Shoyo as his energy bar hits zero. He leans against the deck chair, white shirt nearly transparent with sweat. "Are you some kind of genius, Kenma? How many times have you won already?"  
  
Kenma curls his toes against his feet, slightly abashed. "Twenty-nine times."  
  
"A genius! You're a genius!"  
  
"N-not really." Kenma tries to act like the compliment didn't light up his entire being, and fill him with a light and fuzzy feeling.  
  
He likes that feeling.  
  
Shoyo doesn't reply, and Kenma takes that as an indication to proceed. "Are you up for another round?"  
  
"No, wait," Shoyo says with a faraway lilt, and it takes everything in Kenma to stop himself from turning abruptly to Shoyo.  
  
'No'? Does that mean Shoyo doesn't want to be with him anymore? Kenma's heartbeat speeds up slightly, and he wonders why his anxiety has to surface now of all times.  
  
He wonders why Shoyo is the cause of it.  
  
Once again, Shoyo puts Kenma's concerns to rest with a cheery smile. He points to the ocean, and says, "Let's go to the ocean!"  
  
Kenma needs a moment to take this in, and even so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows. "T-the ocean?"  
  
"Yeah!" The contrast between Kenma's doubtful expression and Shoyo's wide smile is as evident as day and night. "Your six-year-old cousins were having fun just now, and I'm sure we will too!"  
  
Kenma has no interest in getting wet, and he tries to make this as obvious as possible. "Uh, I'm not too sure. Water and I don't get along."  
  
Laughter like the tinkling of bells echoes around the area; Shoyo is as thick as a book.  
  
"What are you, a cat? Come on, just for a bit?"  
  
Shoyo's persuasiveness breaks through Kenma's wall of resistance with ease, and reluctantly Kenma puts down his console.  
  
"Yay!" Shoyo fist-pumps in glee.  
  
In a fluid motion, he removes himself of his shirt and tosses it to the ground. Kenma follows suit with less zeal, allowing Shoyo to grab his hand and drag him into the ocean.  
  
The waves surge forward, running their chilly moisture over the two's feet.  
  
"Wah, cold," hisses Kenma under his breath, ducking away from the water. The moist sand sticks to his feet, and a troubled expression flits across his features. "This is why I don't like the beach."  
  
"Kenma, you're really like a cat!" exclaims Shoyo in astonishment, wading deeper into the ocean. He throws his hands into the air. "Everyone loves the beach!"  
  
Kenma takes a few hesitant steps into the waters, and cringes. But he doesn't want to be left behind.  
  
"If I'm a cat, then Shoyo," Kenma suddenly says, a shy glimmer in his eye, "then Shoyo is a bird."  
  
There is a pause, before Shoyo squawks, "A bird?"  
  
"A bird."  
  
Shoyo touches his chin as he ponders, then nods. "A bird, huh? That's nice - very nice! I've always wanted to fly-" he spreads out his arms, and Kenma sees wings "-and feel the feeling of being alive."  
  
'The feeling of being alive,' repeats itself in Kenma's head, and he looks up into the sky, pushing his hair from his face.  
  
Twin seagulls circle the azure, cloudless blue sky, reigning it with ear-splitting cries.  
  
If Shoyo is a bird, he wouldn't be a coarse seagull; no, he'd be one with majestic snow wings, bringing hope to whoever he flys by, and granting the feeling of being alive.  
  
"The feeling of being alive isn't that simple, you know?" Shoyo notes at Kenma's perk in interest. He balls his fist up and punches Kenma square in the chest. "Did that hurt? Is that the true feeling of being alive?"  
  
Kenma doesn't know.  
  
But the more he watches Shoyo, the more the answer comes to life.  
  
"It's not."  
  
The overwhelming noon sun that stifles him; the sensation of grime clinging to his feet; the taste of a soda popsicle on a sunny day: are they all the true feelings of being alive?  
  
Kenma knows.  
  
He watches Shoyo swirl around in the water, lips permanently quirked in a smile, and he learns. He learns that Shoyo is a magician, a magician of happiness.  
  
When he blinks, the magic is gone. A jet of water hits him on his nose and mouth, and Kenma shrieks.  
  
"Ha ha ha!" laughs Shoyo as Kenma trips in shock and lands on the shallow waters with a 'splat!' "You didn't expect that, did you, Kenma?"  
  
The impact hurt, and Kenma got back to his feet with mild unhappiness. "I didn't," he complains, fingering his wet hair. "I wasn't planning on getting my hair wet."  
  
Shoyo laughs again, clasping his hands together apologetically. "Sorry, Kenma. Look, you can do it back to me!"  
  
Dark mischievousness flashes across his eyes, and he adds, "If you can."  
  
Shoyo cups his hands in a strange position and produces another water jet. Despite its simple appearance, Kenma realised that it's not. It might come as naturally as breathing to some, and daunting to others, like how some can't whistle, and some can.  
  
Kenma can't whistle, but he wants to make that jet of water.  
  
He studies Shoyo's hands, and imitates it. A smaller, though just as worthy, stream of water manifests, and Shoyo cries out in pride, clapping his hands together.  
  
"You did it, Kenma! It took me so many tries to get it right, yet you... You're a genius, Kenma! A genius!"  
  
"Not really."  
  
Kenma tries to act like the compliment didn't light up his entire being, and fill him with a light and fuzzy feeling.  
  
He likes that feeling.  
  
***  
  
From the collection of deck chairs on the beach, the adults initiate small talk.  
  
"Oh my, look at Kenma!" exclaims an aunt out of the blue, and the attention is turned to their relative in the ocean.  
  
All are transfixed for a few moments, before an uncle comments with a hearty chuckle, "Well, it's good that the boy's finally in the ocean."  
  
The others aren't as impressed. One nudges Kenma's mother, and hisses in her ear, "Who on Earth is he playing with? Why is he smiling so freakishly alone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy i've been working on this! it's a lot longer than i had planned it to be (sigh it was three sentences in the planning compared to the rest) but at least i could churn out some fluff before the story takes a not so nice turn • w •
> 
> here's some dumb unnecessary info: i hate the beach, but shoyo loves it! at first, i wanted kenma to dislike it too, but hmm, maybe if i had a shoyo, i'd like the beach too!


	3. sunset

Shoyo doesn't appear for the following days.  
  
When Shoyo is not around, sweltering summer days are hazy, and they fly by like pinpricks of time.  
  
Kenma finds himself interacting with his family more than he expected to. They seem to be more open, more relaxed, more smiley now.  
  
Maybe some of Shoyo's sunshine has rubbed off on him.  
  
Kenma leans against his chair, and nibbles on his watermelon slice. It's sweet and summery, and he wishes Shoyo is here to try it with him.  
  
"Is it yummy?" asks one of his cousins.  
  
Kenma had noticed her staring sceptically at the watermelon, uncertain on trying it. He smiles encouragingly, and nods. "Yeah."  
  
Her world expands in a fraction of a moment, and she runs off with a bounce in her step. "Mummy, I want watermelon too!"  
  
Kenma watches her gobble down slice after slice, and realises that he is developing a fondness for his extended family.  
  
Shrugging, he reaches over to pick up his console when his phone buzzes. It has been a long time since someone contacted him, and he checks it with curiosity.  
  
It's Kuroo. Kenma can almost feel Kuroo's arm slung around his shoulders as he reads his message: 'Hey Kenma, it's been two weeks. How are you doing?'  
  
'Fine,' Kenma types back. 'It's really hot.'  
  
Kuroo replies instantly. 'What do you expect? It's the beach! Have you been playing volleyball?'  
  
'Not really.'  
  
'Everyone is practicing hard. Don't think of slacking off, alright?'  
  
'I won't.'  
  
'Anyway,' comes Kuroo's message, a slight change in tone, 'which beach did you say you're at?'  
  
Kenma tells him, and there is a abrupt pause before Kuroo texts, 'That place?'  
  
'Yeah. What's wrong?'  
  
'Oh, nothing. I read in the news something creepy happened there last year.'  
  
Something niggles at the back of Kenma's mind, but he ignores it. 'What?'  
  
'Last year,' writes Kuroo, his message darkened by a spooky undertone, 'there was a freak accident where a fourteen-year-old boy lost his life. But rumour has it that it wasn't an accident: it was suicide.'  
  
A chill runs down his spine, and Kenma whips around to the ocean. The waves gallop forth, then retreat with reluctance. Kenma has seen this sight many times over the course of the holiday, yet never like this.  
  
Never like they had the potential to take someone's life.  
  
He turns back to reply, and realises Kuroo has sent him another text. 'Don't get your panties in a twist, it's just a rumour. The beach is great! I have to go now, but lighten up and enjoy yourself there. Pick up any bottles you see for me: I want a message-in-a-bottle!'  
  
Kenma sighs. Count on Kuroo to ask for weird things. 'Okay.'  
  
He puts down his phone and stretches. It's just a rumour after all; he shouldn't get so worked up.  
  
Kenma peers over at his family and wonders if they know. He wonders if he should tell them that he knows.  
  
He decides not to.  
  
"I'm going out for a bit," he mumbles to no one, and exits the hotel. The hot summer air hits him at full-blast, but he moves forward, shielding his eyes from the sand and the sunlight.  
  
Repetitive sounds of skin against ball ring in the air, and Kenma swivels his head in that direction. He knows that sound.  
  
It's the sound of a volleyball.  
  
He finds his legs moving instinctively, carrying him towards the source of the sound; then stopping.  
  
Stopping before the back of a lone boy - one with bright and crazy curls and tanned arms. He turns, and Kenma meets a pair of shining eyes.  
  
"Oh! Kenma!" are the words that escape his lips, and Kenma smiles.  
  
"Shoyo," he replies.  
  
Shoyo runs over, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, Kenma! I fell sick, and had to stay indoors for a few days! My mother scolded me for not drinking enough water...hehe..."  
  
Kenma watches Shoyo rub the back of his neck, but he can't think of a proper reply. There is only one thing running through his mind, and he says it, "You play volleyball?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Shoyo grins, thrusting the ball upwards. "Do you happen to play volleyball too?"  
  
Kenma nods, suddenly speechless. He can't believe that Shoyo plays volleyball too. Kenma doesn't believe in destiny, but this couldn't just be a coincidence.  
  
Shoyo is short and doesn't have an intimidating aura, but when he holds the ball, he looks like he can take on ten men by himself.  
  
"What position do you play?" Shoyo is bursting with questions, excited to find a fellow volleyball player. "Are you in a team? Are you strong? Are you-"  
  
"I'm a setter," says Kenma quietly, and Shoyo is silent in awe.  
  
"Really? We must be fated, Kenma! I'm a spiker! A middle blocker!"  
  
Shoyo springs around energetically, volleyball tight in his grasp. "Can we play together, Kenma?"  
  
Had Shoyo been anyone else, Kenma would be reluctant to - perhaps even flat-out refusing - but strangely he couldn't say no. He wants to play volleyball.  
  
He wants to play volleyball with Shoyo.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Yay! Kenma's the best!"  
  
Shoyo throws the ball in the air, and runs over in position to spike. Kenma's fingers ache, and twitch at the sight of the ball; it calls for a toss.  
  
He reaches up, eyes trained on it, and gives it a push - a push that propels itself to Shoyo.  
  
And Shoyo smacks down the ball with not a trace of hesitation. It hits the ground with a solid 'Thud!', but Shoyo hasn't fallen yet. His jump hasn't ended, and Kenma watches as he lands.  
  
It's gradual and graceful and beautiful, and Kenma is enraptured. Shoyo's arms swoop back to their usual position, and with a turn, he grins. "That felt good, Kenma! One more!"  
  
"O-okay," says Kenma. He can't think of anything to say again. His mouth is dry, and he feels his fingers twitch again.  
  
For a second, he swears, for a second he didn't see Shoyo.  
  
He saw a demon.  
  
***  
  
They play for a little over an hour, Kenma tossing, and Shoyo spiking exuberantly.  
  
"One more!" shouts Shoyo, running over to collect the stray ball. Kenma looks at his hands, his red and sore hands.  
  
He's tired, but he still can toss.  
  
As Shoyo spikes, he smiles a pure smile - a smile that radiates warmth, a smile that is blinding, perhaps more so blinding than the sky high noon sun.  
  
Kenma realises that he really likes Shoyo's smile. He reaches up to toss, trying to suppress such irrelevant thoughts.  
  
Once again, the ball hits Shoyo's hand and shoots back to the ground. This time, however, it lands before several pairs of tiny feet.  
  
"Wah!" comes a chorus of equally tiny voices, and the two boys realise that Kenma's cousins are before them.  
  
"Oh, is there something you need?" asks Kenma. The children look uncertain, and cling onto each other shyly.  
  
Shoyo walks over with an easy smile. "What is it? You can tell us anything!"  
  
One of them pipes up, "Can we play sandcastles with you?"  
  
Kenma is surprised; he has rejected them constantly over the course of the holiday. Why would they assume his decision would now differ?  
  
"Uh, sorry but-"  
  
"Fantastic!" Shoyo, however, grabs the hands of one of them children and nods vigorously. "I was just thinking of that! We'll join! Right, Kenma?"  
  
'Huh?' thinks Kenma in alarm, blinking rapidly. He wants to step back and say no, but his mind is blank. He can't think of an appropriate response to the sparkling eyes of his cousins and that beautiful smile.  
  
"Y-yeah. I guess."  
  
Shoyo might be thick, but he isn't that oblivious. He senses something amiss, and he turns to the children. "Give us a moment, okay? We'll join you in front of the hotel."  
  
The children accept his request without hesitation, and run off in high spirits. Kenma watches them chatter away, and is afraid to burst their bubble.  
"What's wrong, Kenma?"  
  
Kenma tries to avert his gaze from Shoyo's, but his eyes seem to possess some sort of magnetic attraction. He is afraid to burst Shoyo's bubble too. "N-nothing."  
  
Shoyo reaches out and touches his shoulder. His touch scorches Kenma's bare skin. "Is it," he probes, voice feather-light, "that you don't want to build sandcastles with them?"  
  
Kenma finally looks to his feet. "K-kinda."  
  
He is unsure.  
  
Unsure of who this Shoyo is: there is something different about his touch this time - it whispers more than a friendly, comforting gesture.  
  
Unsure of who this Shoyo is: when did his voice of cheer and all things merry give way to this serious undertone?  
  
Shoyo doesn't reply, instead waits for Kenma's explanation.  
  
Kenma takes a deep breath and finally chokes out, "I...I don't like the beach. It's really warm in the summer, and I don't like extreme temperatures. It's a bit weird, I know, but-"  
  
"It's not weird at all!" interrupts Shoyo hotly, and Kenma is relieved to find bits and pieces of Shoyo returning.  
  
"-but I'm not a fan of summer stuff. Like swimming and building sandcastles."  
  
There is another short pause, but Kenma has nothing more to add. He stares fixatedly at his feet, curling his toes in discomfort.  
  
Then, Shoyo speaks.  
  
"You really don't have summer spirit, Kenma," Shoyo comments, and Kenma blinks. Shoyo isn't bothered by Kenma's confession. "What, do you prefer winter instead? Do you prefer making snowmen and sledding?"  
  
"Well...it doesn't snow in Tokyo very often. I don't like winter too."  
  
Shoyo laughs, removing his hand from Kenma to rub his mess of orange curls. "I see! You don't have any sort of spirit at all!"  
  
Kenma isn't sure if he's being offended or not. "Uh..."  
  
"That's all right," Shoyo continues nonchalantly, "people can like what they like. But Kenma - you like volleyball, right?"  
  
"I guess. I just play it."  
  
"That means you like it! And volleyball is an aspect of summer! You do have some summer spirit!"  
  
Shoyo jabs a finger at Kenma's bare chest in declaration. Kenma doesn't know where this conversation is leading to. "Uh, Shoyo..."  
  
"Then," says Shoyo, a familiar mischievous glint in his eye, "you've got a tiny speck of summer within you! Do you feel the warmth?"  
  
Shoyo's wide smile is mesmerizing, and Kenma finds himself falling for his whimsical words. "I do."  
  
"Let's go gather some more summer for you! Let's build a bunch of sandcastles!"  
  
Kenma feels like his cousin who was curious about watermelon. As Shoyo tugs on his wrist and drags him along, he feels his world expand, little by little.  
  
He feels the warmth of Shoyo's fingers, and the transmission of a summer within him.  
  
A summer within them.  
  
***  
  
Time flies by when you're having fun, and this is especially true for both boys and the children.  
  
Despite Kenma's earlier words, he does find himself somewhat enjoying himself.  
  
'Maybe,' he thinks to himself, smiling, 'summer is fun after all. Maybe next time I can build sandcastles with Kuroo and the others. They'll like it too.'  
  
"Oh, Kenma!" Shoyo exclaims, and Kenma turns to him in confusion. "You were smiling just now!"  
  
Kenma touches his face, not particularly bothered by his sandy fingers. "Oh."  
  
"You looked really cute!" says Shoyo, beaming, and a violent blush explodes across Kenma's face. "Really, super-duper cute! Right, kids?"  
  
"Yeah, cute!" chorus the children.  
  
"W-what are you saying?" Kenma whispers, mortified. He whips around, hiding his red face from the world.  
  
The others continue with their sand fortress, and when Kenma calms down he joins them again.  
  
'I still don't like sand,' Kenma ponders as he pats sand down firmly on the foundation. 'It's still prickly and uncomfortable, and hot in the afternoon. But making stuff with Shoyo is sort of fun.'  
  
He scoops up more sand, and is about to lay it down when a voice calls out, "Children, it's time to go back!"  
  
"Eh?" comes a string of grudging complaints.  
  
Kenma looks up: it's one of his aunts. He turns to the ocean, and is surprised to find the sun halved by the endless blue.  
  
It's late.  
  
"Is it time for you to go home?" asks Shoyo, and Kenma takes a moment to consider his words. Is that a hint of reluctance lacing Shoyo's voice?  
  
"I can stay a bit longer. If you want."  
  
Kenma peeks at Shoyo from below his lashes, and a warm feeling blossoms within him as a smile breaks across Shoyo's face.  
  
"Yeah! Can you?"  
  
His cousins are already scurrying back to the hotel, and Kenma tips his head back. "Hey," he calls unexpectedly, catching his aunt's attention, "I'll be staying out for a while."  
  
His aunt blinks in surprise. Two weeks ago, Kenma would have grabbed this chance to retreat whole-heartedly.  
  
"All right then," she says, nodding at him. "Have fun. Make sure to come back before too late."  
  
She leaves, and Kenma gazes at Shoyo. "What do you want to do? Continue building?"  
  
"Huh? Nah," Shoyo dismisses. The tide has risen, and is tickling the front of the castles the children have built. "I want to watch the sunset!"  
  
He jumps up, and Kenma follows him. They find a nice spot to lie down, and they stare at the lowering sun.  
  
To Kenma, watching sunset is like watching paint dry. There's nothing to it, but it's calming and peaceful, and Kenma likes those kind of things.  
  
He shifts against the gritty bits, but isn't terribly bothered. Looking up at the diminishing sunlight makes problems seem minuscule.  
  
"You know, I've always wanted to watch the sunset with someone."  
  
Kenma glances at Shoyo. His chest rises and lowers with every breath he takes. "Watching the sunset alone is kind of lonely. It's like watching something end, slowly but surely."  
  
Kenma is surprised by the solemnity of Shoyo's words, and he murmurs his name.  
  
"Huh? Oh, sorry!" Shoyo cries out, waving his hands around in embarrassment. He lowers them to his sides, smiling at nothing. "But I'm glad I'm watching the sunset with you, Kenma."  
  
"Me too," breathes Kenma, and he watches Shoyo turn to him abruptly out of the corner of his eye. "I'm glad I'm watching the sunset with you, Shoyo."  
  
A silence frothing with a thousand words settles over them, and nothing happens for a few moments, before something does.  
  
Shy and shaking, a hand reaches over. Kenma forces himself not to look as Shoyo rests his hand on Kenma's, and their fingers entangle.  
  
His touch scorches Kenma's bare skin.  
  
Kenma doesn't let anyone touch him like this; there's something intimate about this gesture - something raw and genuine and innocent.  
  
He has a crazy thought, that should he move even by an inch, Shoyo would disappear.  
  
He doesn't want Shoyo to disappear.  
  
Shoyo squeezes, and Kenma hesitates before squeezing back. Slowly, but surely.  
  
"I hope you don't mind me asking," Kenma suddenly voices. Both pairs of eyes remain glued to the sun. "How old are you?"  
  
Shoyo replies without a second thought, "Fifteen. What about Kenma?"  
  
"Sixteen," Kenma tells Shoyo. "I'm in my second year of high school."  
  
"Eh?" Shoyo blinks, and then panics. "I didn't know you were older than me! Uh...my humblest apologies for being so informal around you! Which do you prefer? Kenma-san? Kenma-senpai? Kenma-d-"  
  
"It's fine," Kenma says, an octave below his usual tone. Noticing this, he continues, "It's no big deal. We're nearly the same age anyway. You can act the same."  
  
Shoyo relaxes instantly. "Okay then!"  
  
The two return to staring back at the horizon. Kenma's mind wanders back to Kuroo's earlier text: '...a freak accident where a fourteen-year-old boy lost his life...'  
  
'If that boy hadn't died, he would have been the same age as Shoyo...'  
  
Kenma frowns a little at this thought, and grips Shoyo's hand with renewed strength.  
  
"Whatcha frowning about?"  
  
Kenma wouldn't tell him.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Besides," Shoyo says, letting it slide, "isn't this kind of romantic?"  
  
Kenma nearly chokes on his saliva. "W-w-what?"  
  
Shoyo simply grins. "Right?"  
  
Kenma looks away, but his fingers remain connected to Shoyo's. "I...I guess."  
  
"Kenma's really lucky though! Getting to experience one summer more than me!"  
  
"Not really. I was born in October."  
  
"Oh! I was born in June!"  
  
Kenma smiles. "You're a summer spirit, through and through."  
  
"Yeah!" Shoyo is proud about this fact.  
  
They lapse back into a comfortable silence, until the sun is a hair's length away from sinking and disappearing for good.  
  
"Kenma," says Shoyo. "What are you going to do when summer ends?"  
  
Kenma hums in thought. "Go back home in Tokyo. School'll start, and there'll be volleyball practice. I'll return to my normal life."  
  
He doesn't point out that summer wouldn't end for a long time.  
  
"I see," Shoyo murmurs, but doesn't offer his own thoughts. Kenma doesn't probe either.  
  
The two lie together, basking in silence until the sun vanishes completely. Darkness wraps around them, and it's the only sign of the passing of time.  
  
Nothing changes, not their synchronised breathing, not their accelerated heartbeats, not their interlocked hands.  
  
Kenma's phone buzzes, and he eases it out from his pocket. It's his mother, asking for him to return.  
  
"I have to go now," Kenma says softly. "Is that okay?"  
  
"Huh? Yeah, of course!" Shoyo springs up, and in that instant, their hands are torn away. "Sorry, for keeping you out for so long."  
  
"It's nothing. Thanks too, I guess."  
  
Shoyo smiles, but it isn't his usual cheery smile as always. There's something different. "I have to go this way now, so I'll see you later."  
  
"O-okay," says Kenma, and he turns in the opposite direction. He takes a step, then turns back. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, right Shoyo?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Tomorrow," Kenma repeats. "You'll be here tomorrow right?"  
  
Shoyo glows. "Of course! You can count on me!"  
  
Kenma exhales in relief, and turns back to the hotel. He takes a few more tentative steps, then turns once more.  
  
Shoyo is gone. The waves crash higher and higher against the shore, washing the sand white and smooth, leaving no trace of Shoyo's footsteps.  
  
A peculiar feeling unfurls in the pit of Kenma's stomach, and no matter how he tries, he can't shake it off.  
  
He trudges back, sinking his footsteps deep into the sand. The dark sky shadows him, and he remembers what Shoyo said about sunsets: they symbolise the ending of something.  
  
Kenma looks up to the sky, and has no idea summer is ending soon.  
  
Slowly, but surely.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is for the super sweet anon on tumblr! i actually had a mini writer's block for this chapter, but yeah this mess happened.
> 
> what's a summer spirit


	4. message in a bottle

"Has everyone done their final check? We'll be leaving soon."  
  
There are a few incoherent grumbling in reply as the adults sift through their respective hotel rooms.  
  
Kenma's mother glances over at her son and sighs. He remains perched on the chair, attention fully dedicated to his console.  
  
"Kenma!" she calls, and continues despite not receiving any form of acknowledgment. "Did you hear me? Have you done your final check?"  
  
Kenma slips off his earphones, and nods. "Everything's in my backpack," he tells her, patting it.  
  
"Good. We're leaving in ten minutes, so you can get in the car first if you'd like to.  
  
To her surprise, Kenma shakes his head. "Do you mind if I drop by the beach for the last time?"  
  
"Huh?" His mother has definitely picked up on his slight change, but it stills baffles her. She looks deep into his eyes and smiles. "That's fine, but make sure you get back in time."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Kenma hops off the chair, and, backpack in tow, takes off for the lift. He leaves his mother smiling at his wake.  
  
"Oh, is he exceeding your expectations again?" asks an uncle.  
  
Kenma's mother presses a hand to her cheek, and simply says, "It makes me so happy to see him enjoying himself."  
  
It really does.  
  
It's been nearly ten years since he last saw his relatives, and they might think nothing has changed. But maybe something has.  
  
Maybe someone has changed him, and let him see summer in a different light.  
  
Kenma's mother wonders who.  
  
***  
  
A sense of urgency surges up within him as he waits for the lift and enters it. He jabs the button for the lobby.  
  
As the lift descends, he digs his nails into the straps of his backpack and looks up at the ceiling of the lift. It's quiet inside, with only the gentle hum of machinery breaking the otherwise still silence.  
  
It's quiet inside, and Kenma's able to breathe and think.  
  
The day before, he and Shoyo were able to enjoy the sunset together for the last time.  
  
Shoyo has become more intimate with Kenma. Every time the sun goes down, he'd lean against Kenma and rest his mop of curls against Kenma's shoulder as he babbles about everything and nothing.  
  
Sometimes, his hand would find Kenma's, and trace circles on his knuckles.  
  
Kenma would sit there, listening to Shoyo's inexhaustible words and the calming lapse of waves. It's refreshing, and he wishes these days lasted for an eternity.  
  
"You'll be here tomorrow, right?"  
  
Shoyo tipped his head at Kenma's words, and furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought. "I hope so," he had finally said, "but there's a lot of things happening tomorrow. I might not be able to make it."  
  
At that moment, Kenma felt his heart sink. His hand slipped away from Shoyo's grasp and he looked down at the sand. "Oh. It can't be helped, then."  
  
They returned to the sunset, this time with a strange silence upon them. Kenma frequently asked the same question, but both knew there was something different.  
  
Then, Kenma dropped the bomb, "I'm heading back to Tokyo tomorrow."  
  
It had taken Shoyo a few seconds to react, and when he did, it wasn't overly exaggerated shock or thinly disguised outrage - he was oddly content about it.  
  
"Oh, I see," he replied quietly. "Yeah, I kind of expected it. Summer's ending."  
  
They dropped the subject afterwards. It wasn't a pleasant one, but when the sun died down, Shoyo turned for the final time and told Kenma, "I'll do my best to be there tomorrow."  
  
And Kenma believes him.  
  
He takes large steps as he bounds out of the lift and onto the beach. The sun has mellowed over the course of the holiday, and the air is no longer stiflingly hot, but more so like the promised tangy sea breeze, cooling Kenma's cheeks.  
  
The days have grown colder and longer, and summer fades into a mild autumn. Kenma doesn't want it to end; it has been a life-changing one, for both him and for Shoyo.  
  
He has never mourned the ending of a season, and for the first time he wishes for an everlasting summer shared between him and Shoyo.  
  
Shoyo has created multiple first time experiences for him, and Kenma will carry them and treasure them for the rest of his life, should he never meet Shoyo again.  
  
'Yeah,' he thought, shifting his backpack as his sandals smack against the sandy shore, 'why don't we trade numbers? I don't mind talking to him once in a while.'  
  
He continues walking, absorbing the beach for the final time. There is a sharp decrease in people there, yet Kenma has difficulty in spotting Shoyo.  
  
'Maybe he can't come after all.'  
  
Kenma wilts at that thought, and his legs stop moving. He digs his nails deeper into the straps of his backpack, as if that would help in bringing Shoyo to him.  
  
But he isn't a sorcerer like Shoyo - he can't conjure something up. He looks around again, but he's the only one alone in the sea of happy families.  
  
The waves tickle his feet.  
  
An awful loneliness crawls up and nestles within him, and he can't help but hang his head in despair.  
  
And then he blinks.  
  
Against the beach, words are haphazardly scrawled out and etched deep into the sand.  
  
Words which spell out his name.  
  
'Kenma,' he reads, and scours to find more words below. 'Sorry, I couldn't make it after all.'  
  
Kenma's lips twist into a bittersweet smile. He continues reading.  
  
'Thank you for giving me the best summer ever. I'll never forget this, and I'll never forget you. You're the best, Kenma! I'm sure we'll meet each other again one day.'  
  
Kenma's hands fly from the straps of his backpack to his mouth, and he chews the skin. "Shoyo," he says against it. "You're wrong. You are the one who gave me the best and most unforgettable summer. I'm not the best, you are."  
  
Kenma is not a frequent crier, but for the first time he has to blink extra-hard to stop the tears from falling.  
  
He bends down, and grabs for the branch conveniently left behind. 'Thanks, Shoyo,' he quickly writes. 'I'll never forget this summer either. It was kind of fun.'  
  
He drops the branch, and stands up. 'Liar,' he thinks to himself. 'It was the most fun you ever had in your life, Kenma. Be honest with yourself.'  
  
Kenma smiles, and dusts his hands on his shorts. He shifts his backpack and makes his way to the car.  
  
"At least I sort of spoke to Shoyo one more time," he reassures himself. A bundle of emotions settle in the pit of his stomach, and Kenma feels an uncontrollable urge to turn around again.  
  
He does.  
  
The sparkling sea greets him, waves racing forth and then retracting. They close in on the hastily scrawled words as the tide rises, but it isn't of Kenma's concern.  
  
Kenma's gaze falls upon a lone bottle that grazes his name on the beach. Under the gentle sunlight, it gleams a bewitching hue of iridescence, beckoning him towards it.  
  
He does.  
  
He stoops down, and picks it up, inspecting it with great curiosity. The bottle is transparent and the wrapping around it has been hastily torn off.  
  
He squints, and notices the thin, rolled up sheet of parchment within the bottle. It is yellowed and the corners are curled, and has probably been tossed about in the ocean for a long period of time.  
  
Kuroo's message surfaces from the crevices of his mind: '...Pick up any bottles you see for me: I want a message-in-a-bottle!'  
  
Kenma unzips his backpack and slips the bottle inside. He did not expect to chance upon a bottle with a message inside, and he wonders where it came from.  
  
He decides to have a look later, and treads back to the hotel as he zips his backpack.  
  
Kenma doesn't look back.  
  
The waves undulate fluidly, before crashing forward wildly and wiping the shore traceless.  
  
Kenma doesn't look back, but if he did, he'd see that their little conversation has been erased into nothing more than foam and soft indents on milk white sand.  
  
***  
  
It's a relatively long drive back to Tokyo, and Kenma absorbs the peace and quiet around him. There's only him and his parents in the car - no noisy cousins, no nosy relatives, but also no boy who smells of sunshine and has eyes brighter than the sun.  
  
Kenma looks out of the window as his game loads. The scenery roll past him as they grow closer to urbanisation, and a strange feeling of reluctance and longing dwells within him.  
  
The game makes a sound when it fully loaded, and Kenma turns back, devoting his attention to it. He presses the buttons, but he's still distracted.  
  
The computer-controlled enemy lands a solid hit on his avatar and drains more than half of his energy. Kenma's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't feel anything more than mild irritation.  
  
No, his thoughts still remain with Shoyo. The satisfaction that accompanied him when he read Shoyo's message, and when he wrote back had long dissolved into nothingness. In its place is the realisation that he will probably never meet Shoyo again.  
  
'There're lots of people in the world, Kenma,' he reminds himself. 'You'll definitely run into someone like him one day. If not, you still have Kuroo and everyone else.  
  
'Right?'  
  
He breaks his train of thought again when the computer-controlled enemy springs a surprise attack on his avatar which he could easily counter, yet neglected to. Kenma sighs as the disappointing words 'Game Over!' flash on his screen.  
  
Frustrated, he turns off his console, unzips his backpack and stuffs it inside. He then tugs his legs up and buries his face between his knees.  
  
Why is he so annoyed? Why is he so distracted? Why does he keep thinking of Shoyo?  
  
'Shoyo is over,' he tells himself sternly. 'Shoyo is just a chapter in your life. The best summer in your life. That's it.'  
  
But that's not Shoyo. The energetic and brilliant Shoyo can't be confined into a coffin of a chapter.  
  
Shoyo springs to life in everything; he's sleepless nights on a rock hard futon, he's soda popsicles on the hottest day of summer, he's a carefree bird with magnificent wings, he's the lord of sandcastles, he's a warm and fleeting sunset.  
  
And then there's his smile that could rival the hottest of summers, and his eyes which glimmer in youthful mirth, and his words that mediate between an excitable tangent on anything under the sun, or of a forlorn maturity that Kenma is constantly bewildered by.  
  
Kenma sighs, and Shoyo emerges in that sigh. He wishes that this devastation of losing Shoyo would vanish, that he could return to being the usual composed Kenma who would never be ruffled by a boy who could possibly be the child of summer.  
  
For Kenma, this summer has been a life-changing and fun one; he realises that he will probably never return to the stand-offish and introverted child he was. The emotions he had deemed unnecessary and discarded gush back in its place at full-throttle, choking him.  
  
As long as he thinks of that smile, he'll never be the same.  
  
The smile that could heat up the coldest of winters, and thaw the frostiest of hearts.  
  
Shoyo's smile.  
  
Out of the blue, the car jerks, and so does Kenma, flying out like a rag doll before being held back by his seatbelt.  
  
A flurry of horning ensues, and Kenma's mother apologies unapologetically.  
  
Kenma arranges his limbs back in order, and huffs to himself when he looks over. His backpack had tipped over, and its contents spilled out and splayed themselves across the backseat of the car.  
  
'What a bother,' he thinks to himself. He reaches over to collect his articles, but freezes when his gaze falls upon his spare console.  
  
"Ah," he voices to himself with a sad lilt, "I was going to give that to Shoyo."  
  
He takes it in his hands with a porcelain grip and a certain kind of melancholy. The console is cold, but it seems to fizz to life at Kenma's touch.  
  
Memories sear through Kenma, those of them playing the same old game together, the countless victories he achieve with ease, the sole victory Shoyo acquired when Kenma went easy on him.  
  
Kenma smiles a sad smile, and tucks it away in his backpack. He had been decisive in making the choice of gifting it to Shoyo as a memento, but in the end, Shoyo would never receive it.  
  
As he puts away the scattered items, he chances upon a smooth and shiny object. He holds it, and recognises it as the bottle he had picked up earlier.  
  
He places it on his lap, hoping that maybe reading the letter within it would swing his thoughts in a different direction.  
  
Once he has zipped his backpack, he turns back to the bottle and examines it once again. He tugs at the cork, and sighs when he realises that it is fixed tightly to the mouth of the bottle.  
  
Nevertheless, it does not deter him. He holds the bottle in one hand, and pulls the cork out with another. His knuckles turn white with force, but he finally manages to remove the cork.  
  
All of a sudden, the air changes to an ominous one.  
  
The sheet of paper peeks out of the bottle, and Kenma takes it, unknowingly opening his personal Pandora's Box.  
  
The vehicle hums lowly as Kenma unfolds the paper. He scans it, not fully taking the Japanese words in; there's an unmistakable sense of woe that heavily coats the paper, and the handwriting is a messy, panicked scrawl.  
  
A familiar handwriting.  
  
Hasn't he seen it before?  
  
Kenma shakes his head to dismiss the thought, and glances over at the top line. It proclaims the date of the letter, and Kenma is more than surprised to find that it states the exact day a year ago.  
  
Someone on this day a year ago had written on a sheet of paper, placed it tightly in a bottle and flung it into the ocean. Would they have expected someone receive their letter on the exact same day?  
  
A chill runs down Kenma's spine, and he shivers. A gnawing feeling traps him, but he does his best to still his beating heart.  
  
He begins to read.  
  
'To whoever in the future reading this:  
  
Hello. If you are reading this, I'm probably already dead. There's no need to be alarmed or saddened by this fact, I think I'm in a better place now.'  
  
Kenma's skin crawls. This is a suicide note.  
  
'You know, my mother used to tell me there's stars inside everyone. Humans are like glassy jars filled with stars of all kind: carefully folded like origami, and glowing with the brightness of stars in the night sky.  
  
'I had lots of stars within me when I was young. I was happy, and my stars glowed. Humans are like glassy jars, and when they see that you're shining, they are drawn to you. They want to glow too.  
  
'But the older I get, the duller my stars become. They either stop glowing or burn out completely, and there's nothing left in my jar.  
  
'No one wants to be around me now that my stars are gone, not even I do. I try to fold my own stars, and make them sparkle the way they used to, but in the end, they're all artificial. They don't light up anymore.  
  
'I feel so lonely and empty all the time. I wonder if the world would be a better place without me. I cry alone a lot. I used to love volleyball, but I don't know anymore. I used to love myself, but I don't know anymore. I used to love life, but I don't know anymore. I'm so scared, and I'm only fourteen. When death is a better option than life, you don't think straight. There's no place in the world for me.  
  
'Where did my feeling of being alive go to?  
  
'I don't know, so I'll be going ahead, I guess. Whoever you are, please be strong. Please smile. Please live, and please enjoy living. I used to be able to do it, but I now I can't, so I need you to do it for me.  
  
'If you're ever in a pinch, just look up in the sky and think of me. I'll be with you in spirit.  
  
'I believe in you.  
  
'Goodbye.'  
  
Kenma's heart is still pounding, and his face is deathly pale. There's a swarm of thoughts buzzing around in a flurry in his mind, but the only coherent one is - Kuroo. Kuroo was right.  
  
There's still a few words scribbled on in the corner of the letter, and Kenma calms himself before he takes a final look.  
  
When he does, his eyes widen in horror.  
  
That name.  
  
He knows that name.  
  
It reads, 'Hinata Shoyo.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you didn't expect this, i'm sorry. if you did, i'm still sorry but congrats.
> 
> aa do you regret now ?


	5. shoyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i realised when writing the final chapter that it's a lot like the last two episodes of nge - pretty unnecessary and dumb. but i wouldn't like to end on such an abrupt note, so yeah. the final chapter.

Kenma doesn't say a word the rest of the ride.  
He doesn't seem to move either, remaining hunched up in the backseat of the car, bottle on his lap and paper in his hands.

Kenma doesn't say a word, but his mind is whirring, and his face is pale. There're a thousand things he'd like to say, but even if he voices them, he wouldn't get an answer.

As the car careens to a halt in the parking lot, Kenma closes his eyes and leans his head against the headrest. His parents exit the car, and then so does he, slipping off his seatbelt and taking his things.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?" comments his mother. Kenma slides a quick glance at her, and presses his lips in a tight smile.

He's not in the mood for small talk. He needs to go.

They reach their apartment, and Kenma makes a beeline for his room. His parents don't notice anything different; when Kenma returns home from either a short trip to the convenience store or a full-day at school, his first instinct is to retreat to his room for a good amount of time before doing anything else.

But as they remove their luggage, Kenma's parents are more than surprised to find their son back in the main room.

"Kenma? What's the matter?"

Kenma fingers the straps of his now feather-light backpack, and looks down at his feet. "I-I'm heading out for a bit."

This abnormality in behavior is definitely a trigger for his parents to further probe him, yet there is something laced in his voice, something that pleads to let him go without a word.

Kenma's parents exchange looks. They don't ask. "Take care."

Kenma dips his head, and in a flash he's gone.

He strides out of the apartment, out of the building, and out of his life. His heart pounds away like a jackhammer, but he sheds his form confidently.

His thoughts hush, buzzing softly in the background. They're an united, unanimous voice, whispering to him, (Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.)

With every brisk step he takes, they grow louder.

(Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.)

He takes larger steps, as if the faster he moves, the more likely the voices will disappear.

(Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.)

Like hell. They grow louder, with each movement, clinging to his skin and sucking him in.

(Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.)

Kenma's scared now, and actions are frenzied. He breaks into a desperate run, legs pummeling faster than they ever have before as they pound against the asphalt.

(Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.)

He doesn't know where's he's going, but he does know he's all alone. The streets of Tokyo are littered with dim lights, but no one is there to see them.

(SHOYO'S DEAD!)

"No!" Kenma screams. His legs give way, and he crouches down, sweaty palms clamped over his ears. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Miraculously enough, it does. The voices dissolve into the susurration of the wind.

Kenma takes some time to regain his composure, each breath heavy and shuddering. His body spumes, the content of Shoyo's letter finally sinking in.

Shoyo really is dead.

Kenma's eyes dart away from the ground and to his side. He needs a moment to register that he's no longer in the proximity of his apartment, but in fact at the public pool.

It's way past the closing time, and the amenity has been emptied out of humans.

He doesn't know why he's here of all places, but some sort of magnetic-esque attraction draws him to the pool.

He stands up shakily and walks over. The place is boarded up. Kenma knows another way of entering. Within a few steps, he finds it.

The public swimming pool is old, and the gaping hole in the fence is probably just as ancient. It's carefully hidden by a bush, but the ever observant Kenma spots it easily.

He pushes aside the foliage, and squeezes through the hole. The fence creaks threateningly, and finally allows him and his backpack to slip through.

Kenma walks a little further in, until he reaches the pool.

It's not a particularly impressive one. The pool is relatively large with a reasonable depth, but compared to the sprawling ocean Kenma spent his summer with, it's nothing. Heck, it bears as much resemblance to his and Shoyo's paradise as a snow globe does to the North Pole.

He looks around. Even though he hasn't visited the pool in a long time, nothing much has changed.

The deck chairs remain scattered all over the place. The still waters reflect the unwavering moon. Fallen dried leaves decorate the ground.

No. There is one difference.

Kenma is the difference.

Is it because he is alone? Is it because he's silently comparing the pool to something more?

Kenma doesn't know, and sheds his shoes without another thought.

Tonight is not about him.

Tonight is about Shoyo.

Shoyo. Shoyo. Shoyo.

Kenma dips his toes in the pool, and swirls them around. The reflection is distorted by ripples, and Kenma swears he sees orange curls in the waters.

He sinks to his feet, removing his backpack and leaning it against him. He retracts the sole article in his backpack - the bottle.

He gazes at it, fingers moulding against the neck, the body, even the bottle cap. It's strange, he decides, that he is holding a bottle someone held a year ago.

Even stranger since that somehow was as upbeat and outspoken as Shoyo.

Kenma places the bottle on the ground, and rests his weight on the pads of his hands. He closes his eyes, and thinks of Shoyo's smile.

He sees stars.

It's near heartbreaking how Shoyo felt that his stars were non-existent, when in actuality, he was a star.

'No,' Kenma tells himself, looking up at the landscape of vague, distant stardust above him, 'Shoyo's not just a star. Shoyo's a shooting star.'

Empty and meaningless to himself, yet extraordinary and significant to others, Shoyo is a shooting star. He treks through the nights of summer and transcends galaxies, granting the unseen, unfulfilled wishes of those around him, and Kenma's.

Kenma breathes, melancholia glazing his eyes over and his vision blurs back to reality. As brilliant as shooting stars are, they exist within a short moment of infinity, before they are banished for eternity, leaving only an unforgettable memory.

Just like Shoyo did.

'Shoyo's dead. He's in a better place. He's making people better. What does that make him? A ghost? A lost soul? No-'

Kenma's lips part at the realisation. 'A spirit. A summer spirit.'

Shoyo is a summer spirit. He exists within a vibrant summer, and this gustly, dry autumn is not his time, is not his place. Nevertheless, Shoyo still does exist, though not in a physical form.

A flock of pigeons fly across Kenma, wings beating against the air in a grating, staccato harmony.

Kenma watches the entourage, and remembers his second day with Shoyo.

A cat was what Shoyo identified Kenma with, and in turn, a bird was what Kenma identified Shoyo with.

If Shoyo is a bird, he wouldn't be a coarse seagull, nor would he be a dull pigeon. He definitely wouldn't the bird with snow wings that Kenma had initially characterised him as.

No, Shoyo would be a crow.

He'd fly through the sky, startling the living lights out of those he perches on with his playful gaze, and gradually grow on them. His shrouded darkness is his light, and in a boisterous sunset, he is aglow. When he spreads his wings to take off, he bursts into thousands and thousands of stars.

Jet-black, burnt-out shooting stars.

Kenma wants to cry.

He sniffs hard, lifting his sore wrists to rub at his damp eyes. But they don't stop. Warm droplets spill onto his palms, scorching his skin.

It hurts, so he stops wiping them, and lets them flow freely. He fumbles for the letter, pulling it out of the bottle clumsily and reading it another time.

'Please smile...'

Shoyo's tiny words make Kenma cry even harder. How can he? How can he smile and live life peacefully with the knowledge that Shoyo's happiness was short-lived?

It hurts, it hurts so much. He feels his heart being squeezed like a sponge, soaking him in an agonising anguish that makes it hard for him to even breathe.

In his desperation, he looks up into the night sky and thinks of Shoyo. Almost immediately, his tears stop flowing, and his eyes widen.

With all the city lights and traffic, it's practically a given that stars are merely invisible pinpricks in Tokyo. Yet in this still night, Kenma can hear his steady breaths return, and see the brightest stars he had ever seen.

Each one shines brighter than ten suns, radiating pulsating hope. Even from the distance, Kenma can feel their comforting warmth, and he shuts his eyes in bliss.

When he opens them again, he sees.

He sees the same brilliant stars from before, but somehow, he sees more than that.

He sees the wing of a crow. He sees the waning light of sunset. He sees the soda popsicle.

More importantly, he sees the vivid orange of Shoyo's hair. He sees the hearty blush of Shoyo's cheeks. He sees the twinkle in Shoyo's eyes.

He sees a constellation of Shoyo's smile.

It's dazzling, uplifting and absolutely beautiful. Kenma loses himself in that illusion for some time, before an obstructive jab of knowledge shatters his heart.

The cool autumn breeze tickles his exposed skin, and Kenma is forced to realise that he will never be able to meet Shoyo again.

He dips his head down, a strange sensation bubbling up within him. His bent legs slide suddenly, and are dunked into the icy pool waters.

Kenma jolts a little, the shock of the cold water turning his legs white. Then the tension is vacuumed out of shoulders, out of his body, and he slips into an uncharacteristic contentment.

His lips twitch the way they did weeks ago, and he lets them spread. They do, breaking his usual poker face into one donning a smile.

It's not as blinding and heart-stopping as Shoyo's, but it's a genuine smile. It's a pure, full smile of a curious kind of delight, as if Kenma has shed all his worries, all his thoughts.

In the last moments of the night, Kenma finally sheds everything. His breathing is short and wild again, short and wild from the final crazy thought he has, and the exhilaration of carrying it out.

He doesn't laugh anymore, he doesn't smile anymore; at the darkest point of night, he spreads his arms out the way Shoyo did.

He wonders if Shoyo's looking, and wonders if Shoyo sees the cat that grew a pair of wings.

A hot blast of air envelopes him, sending Kenma back into nostalgia. It's the tangy sea breeze, and Shoyo's reply.

'I do. I do. I do.'

Kenma looks up into the sky for the final time, and admires the jeweled stars. They shift into another form, and Kenma sees Shoyo.

Kenma sees Shoyo reach out his hand and beckon him with a spectacularly vivid smile. Words move his lips, and Kenma can hear his chirpy voice. "Come along."

Kenma smiles wryly, and says in a hoarse voice that has been talking, talking, talking to himself the whole night, "I'm coming."

He tosses the bottle into the pool first and takes a tentative first step, dipping his leg hesitantly in the water. Then he loses his worries, loses his thoughts, loses his mind as he releases, and sinks himself inch by inch into the pool.

It's frigid cold, as though he is encased in an ice cube. His eyes remain open, and he watches as Shoyo darts around him in the clear waters.

(Come along. Come along. Come along.)

Kenma lets go the last thing he has been holding onto - his breath.

'I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm coming.'

He closes his eyes.

Oxygen is but a myth to him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty then, i've finished it!! this is one of the longest fics i've ever written, and definitely the most ambitious one hehe. it was interesting writing this, and i truly appreciate the kudos and comments i've received. feel free to leave some more, and i'm really forever grateful~
> 
> i'll be going on a short hiatus as i work on writing something else, but i'll be back soon. i have a quite a few ideas. thank you for your support, and hope to see you soon!!
> 
> (to anyone who is going through what shoyo did: hey there. i'm really bad with words believe it or not, but hopefully mine are of some use. idk who you are, and how you are presently, but take a deep breath okk? believe in yourself, because you're the only one you've got. when you feel empty and burnt-out, just find somewhere private to think and cry. it's probably advisable to tell someone if you're brave enough to, but please never ever EVER think that you'll be going to a better place. in the words of orihara izaya, its not your pain that will disappear. it's your existence. hahaha i suck but stay safe ok?)


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